I Love You Then I Hate You
by MaggieGirl
Summary: A new CSI finds it hard to get through the transition of moving to a new place. She yearns to be accepted, but will she ever be?
1. Chapter 1

I walked nervously into the lobby of the Las Vegas Crime Lab and made my way to the front desk. The secretary looked up and smiled.

"Hi! How may I help you?" She asked.

"I'm here to see Gil Grissom?" I stuttered. She pulled out a piece of paper and looked over it.

"Name?"

"Primavera Morales." I said.

"Oh! His office is down that hall and to the left." She said.

"Thank you."

I found myself staring at a rack with jars of different types of specimens. Different types of disturbing specimens. One jar held something that looked like an animal lung or something.

"Hello." A voice came from behind me. I turned to face an older man with salt-and-pepper hair with a beard and glasses.

"Hello Mr. Grissom, I'm Primavera Morales." I said breathlessly. We shook hands.

"Of course. Welcome to the crime lab. First things first; we'll need to get your fingerprints and a blood sample."

Oh, great.

"Here, have a chocolate cricket."

"It…it's an actual cricket?"

"Of course!" Grissom popped in his mouth.

"No thanks." He led me from his office to the break room where a large group of people were congregated. They briefly stopped their conversations as they saw me.

"Everyone, this is Primavera Morales. She's currently a CSI Level 2 that will be joining our team." Grissom said. I gave a small wave and smile to everyone. The next few minutes consisted of everyone introducing themselves. In the midst of the hubbub, one grouchy-looking man threw out his coffee and made his way to the door.

"Hey, Hodges, you're not going to at least introduce yourself?" The woman called Catherine said. The man stopped in his tracks, sighed, and turned around.

"I'm Hodges, your friendly neighborhood lab rat. Now I gotta go. Backlog." He turned abruptly and left.

Sheesh. Talk about crabby pants.

"Alright. Catherine, Greg, and Nick have a 419 outside of the Tangiers. Warrick, you and me are taking over an old case from six months ago with that sausage guy. Sara, you take Primavera and go meet up with Sofia at the Three Aces motel. Looks like we've got another hooker roll." Everyone bustled about to their assignments as Grissom talked.

Dang, he's got everyone in check.

I followed Sara to the locker room and I refilled some supplies from my old field kit and then sat at a bench as she dug through her locker.

"I'm driving." She said, shutting her locker and leaving the room.

Whoopie.

-

"So…" I said, trying to start some conversation.

Silence.

"97 degrees outside. Back in Montana we'd probably be having a heat advisory."

"You came here from Montana…"

"Yeah, I was in Missoula since high school, but before then I was in California."

Silence.

"Yup. San Diego."

Silence.

"It was hot there. Not as hot as here, though. We had the ocean breeze—"

"Should I turn up the A/C?" Sara said, looking annoyed.

"No, it's alright." I said. "Anyways, like I was saying…We had the ocean breeze…"

I swear Sara rolled her eyes at me.

-

"The couple next door to the right said they didn't hear anything peculiar…but then again they were…caught up in their own matters…" Sofia said. I looked at her. Never before had I seen a woman cop make the standard uniforms look so fashionable. Who knew cop uniforms could even BE fashionable?

"Nobody heard anything?" Sara asked.

"Heard? No. Saw? The maid on this floor said she saw him come in with a red-haired woman." Sofia said.

"And as much as I know, this place doesn't have video surveillance in the hallways." Sara said. She turned to me. "Go in and print the place. I'll meet up with you."

"I'm on it." I said. I stepped under the crime scene tape that draped across the door and took a long look over the place. The man was lying on his stomach on the bed, blood from his wrist dripping onto the carpet. There was a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the table. I went there first.

Sara came in a few minutes later.

"What've you got?" She asked me.

"Prints on the champagne bottle, the glasses…and this high-heeled shoe…hadn't gotten to the rest yet." I said.

"Okay." We set to work in silence, occasionally proclaiming one of our findings.

"Semen all over the bed sheets…"

"Add white residue to the list…"

"Looks like lipstick…"

"Bloody Marilyn Manson T-shirt…" I looked up.

"Marilyn Manson?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Looks like Greg Sanders' sort of thing. Minus the blood." Sara said.

"Greg Sanders?"

"Spiky hair? Goofy grin?"

Oh. Right. I swear he was trying to look down my blouse when I shook his hand.

"Creepy."

"Alright, bag all this up and we can head back to the lab." Sara said.

Yes, Boss…

-

The morgue was just like all the others: cold, dark, and metallic. The coroner in Montana didn't have a coffeemaker, though. I received a warm coroner's welcome on my arrival.

"What have you got for us, Doc?" Sara said as we walked in. The Doc looked up and immediately noticed my unfamiliar face.

"New team member?" He asked. I nodded. "I'm Doc Robbins."

"Primavera Morales." I said. We reached out to shake hands—

Squish.

Um…yeah…that would be guts on my hand.

"Oops. I forgot. There's a sink over there if you wanna wash up." Doc Robbins said, trying to look concerned even though I bet he was holding his laughter in.

"Uh…thanks." I glanced at Sara before making my way to the sink.

She was smirking.

-

As I was taking my coffee break my beeper went off.

It read, "LOOK OVER HERE."

I looked up, puzzled. Then I saw the grouchy man from earlier waving a sheet of paper and looking pointedly at me from across the hall.

"What've you got?" I said when I got there.

"The white residue on the bed sheets was not biological so it was sent to me. Trace." He said.

"Hmmm…okay…" I said, wondering what the "Look over here" stuff was about…

"Hey, I'm not done yet. It's lubricant. Typical of a hooker roll." He thrust the paper at me.

"Uh…thanks." He just waved his hand at me as if to shoo me away.

Gosh…Las Vegas is so friendly.

-

It was after shift and I stopped by an old mom-and-pop café to have a bite to eat before I headed home for the night. It kind of reminded me of Missoula, except more dodgy. It was a pretty nice place except for the side of town it was in. I saw mostly truckers sitting around me.

I was about to leave when a man sitting in a corner booth caught my attention. At a glance, he looked like a trucker. He had on a plaid jacket, sweatpants, ball cap, and was all by his lonesome sipping a cup of tea. I recognized him as Hodges from Trace or Mr. Grouchyface as I referred to him in my mind…but let's not go there.

"Come here often?" I said quietly, as to not disturb his rather intent manner of nursing his coffee cup. He raised his head and looked at me from under the brim of his hat and scowled.

"What, is Vegas not big enough for you?" He asked. I stepped back a little. Yeesh, talk about sourpuss.

"Are you always this friendly with newcomers or do you just really like me?" I asked in a mock-flattered tone. He looked at me in an expression that was half-smirk, half-scowl.

"Yeah…that's it." He put a wad of bills on the table and then brushed past me roughly before I could respond.

-

"You look rough." Catherine said, squinting at me. "Hot date or something?" I snorted. She's funny.

"No…I had to wait for the movers to arrive with my bed… Still moving in slowly." I said, talking in between sips of coffee.

"Ah." Catherine said in a sympathetic tone. "Need some help? I could swing by after shift and give a hand."

"Thanks, Catherine, but I'm alright." I said. Actually, I needed some muscle to help me rearrange my cheap secondhand furniture. Catherine doesn't really classify in the "muscle" category.

"Are you sure? I don't mind helping." Catherine insisted. Sheesh, was she gonna hold me at gunpoint until I submit?

"No offense but…I need…er…help moving furniture." I said.

"Oooh right…guy job. Well…there's plenty of guys around here who'd be willing to lend out their 'macho-ness'. You'll find someone." Catherine said, and gave me a smile. It was a Mom smile.

The rest of the team arrived shortly, and started the daily routine which included me being teamed up with Greg for the day's case.

"I get dibs on the steering wheel." Greg said when we were in the locker room.

"No way!" I said. "I didn't get to drive yesterday!" I snatched the keys from his hand.

"Well, I called dibs!" He snatched them back and gave me a little brat grin.

"I hate Vegas!" I yelled while giggling at the stupid grin on Greg's face.

-

"See, we're cool. No one else goes to old-fashioned hamburger joints for lunch." Greg said before taking a big bite of onion-grilled burger.

"I agree." I said. Greg was proving to be a really funny guy. He totally reminded me of my cousin Tully in Wisconsin. "So, gimme all the dirt on people. Jacqui in Prints says that even she can't keep up with all the gossip." Greg grinned at my question.

"Oooh…Primavera Morales…mistress of blackmail…" He said. I hit him lightly in the arm.

"I am NOT! I'm just curious!" I said.

"Alright, then…any particular person?" I thought for a minute.

"Hmm…well, Mia seems really serious. What's up with that?" I asked.

"Ah…Mia Dickerson…She's good with getting down to business, but I think she has a germ issue or something. Hodges accidentally sneezed on her last week and she totally went ballistic. Poor dude, he had a thing for her, too." Greg didn't look any bit sorry for Hodges, though. On the contrary he was snickering.

"About Hodges…is he always pissy or is he still miffed about Mia?" I asked. Greg shrugged.

"He has his grouchy days. I heard he moved here from LA for both the lab tech job and to get away from his wife." Greg said.

"Hodges? Married?" I asked, dropping a fry on the table.

"Yeah, it sounds weird in the same sentence. He got divorced I think. He's a whiz at the Dukes of Hazzard board game, man." Greg said. I snorted.

"Gosh that game's so childish. It's been ages since I last played that game."

"Hey! Don't diss Dukes of Hazzard!" Greg threw a fry at me.

"I can diss it if I want." I said, throwing a fry back at him.

"Not if you don't understand the beauty of the game!" He grabbed the ketchup bottle and aimed it at me.

"Fine," I said, warily eyeing the ketchup bottle "I won't diss Dukes of Hazzard if you help me move furniture in my apartment." He put down the ketchup.

"Anything to restore Hazzard pride." Greg saluted.

"…You're a nerd."

"Thanks!"

-

It was after shift and I was steadily going through boxes in my apartment while I waited for Greg to arrive. He was a little bit late, so I killed time by sorting through some junk. I opened one box and there sat an old CD. I broke out my boom box and played it. Soon I was dancing all over the place like all hell was about to freeze over.

"Ahem."

I froze, and then slowly turned around. Just my luck. There stood a grinning Greg Sanders and two of his lab rat buddies, Archie and Hodges.

"Having fun?" I blushed and punched the Stop button.

"Um…you're…y-you're early!" I stuttered.

"Actually, you didn't really specify a time." Hodges said, looking as if he'd rather not be there.

"Uh…right…well…let's get to work, then." I said. "I was thinking that after I get these boxes out of the way, we can put the armchair and the sofa in an angle to each other."

"That sounds cool." Archie said. "I'll help move boxes."

"Yeah…I'll just go and wait in the car…" Hodges said, making a move to leave. I grabbed his arm.

"Not so fast, I need all the help I can get." I said. He shrugged my hand off his arm and scowled.

"Hurry up so we can play Dukes of Hazzard!" Greg said, steadily moving boxes out of the way.

As soon as the boxes were out of the way, the guys moved the furniture under my direction. I actually made them rearrange it once or twice more than I needed to, but it was funny seeing them getting ticked off.

"Alright, move the sofa more to the right…more…OK, I think that'll be perfect!" I said. They glared at me.

"This is the way we put it in the first place." Archie growled.

"I know." I giggled.

"You just wasted valuable Dukes of Hazzard minutes!" Hodges said, looking at me like I was something evil…which I was to be honest. I rolled my eyes.

"Well, let's not waste anymore time and get started!" Greg said, whipping out the game board and setting it up. He put out four player pieces on the board.

"Wait," I started "I'm not gonna play. This game's boring!"

"Well…" Archie scratched his head, thinking. "Got any beer?"


	2. Chapter 2

"I had to redo the samples from the vic's fingernails because I messed up due to my HANGOVER. Thank you so much for making my life easier." Hodges griped. I scoffed.

"Oh, it's my fault now, is it? Yeah, let's all blame the new kid!" I guess I was in an equally gripe-y mood. "Go tell Greg the results since I mess you up so much." I turned on my heel and flounced out. Bad timing. Grissom was standing right outside.

Let me tell you. Coming face-to-face with your boss after you've done something wrong is like seeing a Peeping Tom in your window when you're wearing nothing but Teletubby panties.

"In my office please, Primavera." He said. Oh…crap. I glanced back at Hodges and he gave me an indifferent stare. I turned around and followed Grissom to his office.

"Just one thing I'll have you know while you're still new here is that neglecting the job just because you can't get along with someone isn't tolerated. Now, if you will, please go get your results from Hodges." Grissom said.

"Yes, sir." I said. I walked out and slowly and reluctantly made my way back to the Trace lab. When I got there, Hodges smirked.

"Get a firm reprimanding?" He asked. I just glared.

"Just give me the results." I said, just wanting to be anywhere but the lab right then.

"Substance under the fingernails is residue containing bits of shale rock and window cleaner containing some ingredient with a name I'm not even going to pronounce because you wouldn't be impressed anyways." Hodges said. I blinked.

"Why would you impress me, anyways?" I muttered.

------

There was barely anyone in the building and I was just getting to my locker to leave for the day. It was just a long and hectic day and I wanted to go home and take a shower to get the Windex smell off me. I was tying my shoelaces when a shadow out of the corner of my eye told me I wasn't alone. There was silence in which I went about tying my shoes.

"Are you gonna talk, or are you gonna stand there all day?" I said, shutting my locker.

"Look, about today, if I pissed you off, I really did have a hangover." Hodges said. We paused.

"Okay." I said, and brushed past him on my way out.


	3. Chapter 3

After shift I went back to my apartment, showered, and plopped down on my couch. I was in a mood to mope. I dearly missed Montana and the small town I left behind. Sighing, I pulled one of the many cardboard boxes towards me and decided that I could at least start a little bit of unpacking. The first thing I pulled out of the box was a dusty old picture album. I flipped through it. There were pictures of the countryside, of my childhood. I was the little black-haired girl always running around outside somewhere. I was the little black-haired girl who was always laughing. I smiled at the memories. I flipped the page and it showed my pictures from San Diego. It was totally different from the previous page. I was much older. I was the brainy black-haired girl who preferred studying over college parties. I was the black-haired girl whose idea of a good time was a night out with her friends at the beach. I started spending less time at the beach when I became a CSI. My days went from frolicking around outside to being stuck in a building with harsh sterile lights, analyzing forks to see if they could have been used to murder someone. I dropped the album on the floor and buried my face in my hands. Who had I come to be?

-

"You look like death," Greg Sanders said to me as I sat down in the break room.

"Oh, you're so suave with the ladies." He grinned and I rolled my eyes. Grissom walked in shortly after that and started handing us assignments.

"Greg, Warrick, you're at the Venetian with a 419. Catherine and Sara, big robbery in Henderson. Nick and Primavera, you're with me. We've got a rape case."

-

"What've you got on your end?" Nick asked. We were on opposite sides of a king-sized bed and were shining the ALS all over the bedspread.

"Well…a bunch of little sailors here. You?"

"Same thing. This guy was all over. Gross." I snorted at Nick. He was the last person I would've expected the word "gross," from.

"Whoa. Here's a bunch of fibers. They're fuzzy, this sheet isn't," I said.

"Good, we can send those over to Trace."

I scowled.

-

My beeper went off in the middle of my coffee break. I checked it and sighed to see the message "Trace." Grissom and Nick were out in the field so I had no choice but to go.

"What have you got?" I asked as soon as I entered.

"The fibers on this sheet were 100 acrylic. Probably from someone's sweater. Why there's a sweater in Vegas, I don't know," Hodges said. I raised an eyebrow.

"So you're positive that it's from a sweater?"

"Hey I don't know, I'm just guessing. You're the CSI here," he grumbled. I walked out before I could think of a reply.

-

"Gosh, is the homeless shelter out of beds or something?" My eyes snapped open. I lifted my head and saw that I had fallen asleep beside the computer that I was working at and Hodges was standing over me with a smirk.

"Oh great," I grumbled, trying to ease the tension from my sore neck by massaging it.

"Are you using that computer or are you just slacking off?" I shot Hodges a death glare and sat up straighter.

"For your information, I must've just dozed off for a moment…and yes, I'm still using this," I snapped.

"Well, too bad, my stuff's got priority. Ecklie's orders," Hodges said. I gaped at him.

"Oh, hell no."

"Hell _yes_. Uh…are you going, or shall I contact the supervisor?" I gave a frustrated sigh and gathered up all my stuff as he stood by looking smug. I stood and brushed past him roughly, wishing he would just fall into a well or something.

-

"Woo, Primavera, you're looking rough. Are you going for the zombie look? I never would have placed you as a 'Night of the Living Dead' fanatic," Greg said, plopping down next to me on the break room couch.

"Ha. That's so funny my sides are splitting in two," I rasped. Greg tried to hold in a laugh, but failed miserably. Catherine and Grissom walked in at that precise moment and raised their eyebrows at Greg. I groaned and swatted at Greg with a napkin.

"I'm sorry, but your face makes me crack up!" Greg said in between laughs. I scowled.

"Get me more coffee or I'll split your lip," I rasped at Greg, causing him to giggle. Grissom frowned at me.

"Are you sure you should be working now, Primavera? You look much too tired," Grissom said, concernedly.

"I'm—" Unfortunately, a yawn decided to surface at that very moment and both Grissom and Catherine had their eyebrows raised.

"Primavera, take the night off, you won't be any use while you're this tired." I groaned and stood on wobbly feet. Grissom frowned. "And it doesn't look like you're in any condition to drive, either. We'll find you someone to give you a ride home."

"No, Grissom, really..."

"You're not going to drive home like this," Grissom said, giving me a look that said he wasn't changing his mind. The break room door swung open and everyone looked to see who it was.

"Ah, Hodges, since you're heading off, would you mind taking Primavera home? She's not in the best condition for driving." Hodges froze. I froze and then turned to gape at Grissom.

"Uh…well…" Hodges scratched the back of his neck and then looked at Grissom. "Well…sure, boss. Wouldn't want one of your employees to go off the deep end." I swore I heard a hint of sarcasm.

"Thank you, Hodges." I continued to gape at Grissom. "Well, hurry home, Primavera, I want you here tomorrow ready for work."

"But—I—Yes, sir," I sighed and followed Hodges reluctantly out of the room.

-

The car ride was unpleasantly awkward and quiet. I sat with my bag clutched tightly to me on my lap and made sure my elbow avoided resting on the little compartment between the seats. I kept my gaze generally to the right side of me.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you so irritated all the time?" Hodges asked as he got on the ramp to the highway. I glanced at him and then looked out the window.

"I don't know what you mean," I said.

"You're always some level of angry whenever I see you at work."

"Well, then maybe I should be asking you the same question." I sensed him taking a look at me.

"Wow, you must really hate me," Hodges said in fake amazement.

"Look, I'm just really tired right now," I said, my voice rasping again. It was quiet for a moment. "I don't hate you."

Hodges almost ran a stop light. The tires screeched loudly and some car behind us honked their horn.

"What?"

"I said, I don't hate you. You just piss me off a lot," I said. "And on top of that, you're a terrible driver."

"Sorry," Hodges said. "Sorry about the driving, that is. Don't know what to do about pissing you off."

"Well, you could try to not be a jerk." Hodges pretended to scoff.

"Only if you paid me." Someone honked their horn again.

"Green means 'go,' by the way." I said, trying not to smirk. I felt his glare as I looked in the opposite direction.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."


End file.
